Star Fox Command: Renaissance
by ninjafoxshadow
Summary: Have you ever wanted to go back in time and undo a mistake? One despondent vulpine gets the opportunity to do just that, but as Fox is about to find out, things never happen the same way twice.


SFC: Renaissance

Chp. 1

Fox McCloud sat in a dingy, dimly-lit bar in downtown Corneria city, feeling utterly despondent. It had been three months and thirteen days since his life had lost all meaning; three months and twelve days since he's found the energy to try and do anything besides mope about or attempt to drown his sorrows at any of Corneria's many bars. No matter how many times he tried, however, he could never wipe out the memory of that darkest of days.

The scene was still vivid in his mind: Krystal, the telepathic blue vixen that he loved more than anything else in the galaxy, standing in front of him as she spoke the words that had shattered his heart. "_I'm sorry Fox! I can't do this anymore. I'm going back to be with Panther and the rest of Star Wolf!"_ He had been left breathless at that pronouncement, as though someone had punched him in the gut. In a way, that might have actually been preferred, since the pain from a blow would fade in time, but the hollow feeling in his chest wasn't anything that would be assuaged by the passage of time. In fact, it only seemed to grow larger with each passing day. He had begged her, pleaded with her to stay, but she had gone off without looking back, leaving him standing there on the hangar floor of the Great Fox 2 with an empty heart and a hollow future.

Fox looked down into the nearly-empty mug that sat in front of him. It hadn't cloned itself so far, which meant that he hadn't had enough to drink yet. He waved the server over and asked for a refill, and the female collie bounced off to the bar to fill the order. Fox watched her leave, absently noting her spritely step and attractive figure, but only in an academic, impersonal sense. He had no heart for romance after Krystal had effectively dumped him, and didn't expect to ever recover it in his own lifetime.

"Where did I go wrong, Krystal?" he asked, even though she wasn't there to hear him. "Was I not affectionate enough? Did I not apologize enough for kicking you off the team? I just wanted to keep you safe; was that so wrong?" His despondent litany trailed off, and he stared at the table in front of him. To his knowledge, he had done everything he possibly could to make up for what he'd done, but he refused to believe that there was nothing he could have done to avert what had happened. If he'd done everything he could and it still had come to pass, then it was meant to be that he and Krystal would never have stayed together, and he was more willing to accept that he had dropped the ball at some point than that he had been destined for heartbreak. He sighed forlornly and let his forehead rest on the table, whispering quietly, "What did I do wrong?"

"Excuse me," a voice cut into his reverie, jolting him out of his self-pity. "Do you mind if I sit here?" Its pitch was a high tenor, obviously male but not very deep; it actually sounded more youthful than anything else. Fox was surprised that anyone would want to speak with him in his current condition. It wasn't that he was an obnoxious drunk; it was just that people didn't usually bother someone who was in a depressed state. He lifted his head to see who was addressing him, and what he saw made him squint in the dim lighting and take a closer look.

The speaker appeared to be a hybrid, combining some of the aspects of a raccoon with those of a fox. Hybrids weren't unheard of in Corneria, but neither were they all that common. His body was covered mostly in dark gray fur, except for a lighter shade of gray on his throat and presumably his chest and belly as well. His hands and lower arms were gloved in black fur that ran up to just below his elbows, and a mask of black fur surrounded his eyes as well, though it didn't extend much past his face. Black hair grew from his scalp, reaching down to his shoulders in back and curling over to half-cover his eyes in front. The best description that came to Fox's mind for the other's overall appearance was 'youthfully handsome'. Behind him curled a bushy, fox-like tail that featured three black bands along its length. Fox couldn't see the color of his eyes in this light. The newcomer wore a lightweight blue jacket over a plain white T-shirt and dark green cargo pants, with nondescript sneakers on his feet. His demeanor seemed friendly enough, but Fox wondered why in the world a complete stranger would want to sit with him at this point in time.

Staring up at the newcomer, Fox belatedly realized that he hadn't answered the question, and replied, "Sure, why not?" As the foxcoon hybrid sat down across the table from him, Fox was surprised at how young he seemed; he looked like he should still be in school, not sitting in a bar talking to a despondent drunk. "Are you ev'n old enough to come in here?" he blurted out before he thought better of it.

The hybrid simply smiled slightly at that remark and replied, "I hear that a lot. They carded me at the door and let me in, so I'd guess I'm legal, hmm?" He didn't seem to be offended at all at Fox's question. The server came back with Fox's drink, which he thanked her and passed a tip over to her for. The collie smiled as she put the credit chit into her pocket, and strode off to help the next person waiting. Fox took a long drink of his latest glass and set it back down on the table, then felt as though the room was rocking back and forth. The foxcoon youth looked dubiously at first him and then his glass, and asked, "How many of those have you _had_?"

"Two," Fox replied, holding up four fingers. At the other's raised eyebrow, he looked down at his hand again and tried to put two of his fingers down, but that last gulp had affected his coordination more than he thought, and after a little while he shrugged and let his fingers answer the question.

The youth looked at Fox's fingers for a moment, and then inquired, "Why so glum?" Fox didn't want to answer the question, and looked down at the floor and closed his eyes in the hopes that he'd take the hint and drop this line of questioning. When there was silence for a moment, Fox thought that the youth had given up, but when he opened his eyes, he saw the foxcoon leaning over so that he was looking Fox right in the eye again. This close, Fox could see what color the other's eyes were; he had stormcloud-gray irises that were outlined by a halo of dark blue. For a brief moment, Fox had the weird impression that the youth was peering into his mind, reading his thoughts as though they were an open book, but he dismissed the notion as an alcohol-fueled delusion. The youth kept his gaze level with Fox's for a long moment before saying, "You don't strike me as the casually drinking sort, so I'm assuming there's some tragedy or other that's motivating your current inebriation."

Fox sighed in resignation, realizing that there was no evading the question. He rested his elbows on the table and put his face in his hands. "Have ya ever made a mistake, or done somethin' you wish you could undo?"

"I imagine everyone has, at some point or other in their lives," the foxcoon answered.

"Well, I made wha' was eas'ly the biggest mistake of m' life 'bout a year ago," Fox told him. "There was this girl I loved, and we seemed so perfect fer each other, but… I made a selfish decision and told her she couldn't stay on the team. I told her it was fer her protection, that I din't want her to get hurt, but… she took it pretty badly. She ran off and I din't see her for several months, and then when I next heard about her agin' I heard that she'd joined up with a rival group and was dating one o' their pilots. We found her again after she'd been separated from the rest of her new team after a battle, an' I… apologized to her, asked her to come back, an' she did for a while, but then she ran off again to go back to the other guy and left me standing there all alone."

Fox broke off, both too heartsick and too drunk to continue. He reached for his glass again, hoping to assuage his sorrow at least partly with another mouthful of liquor, but his coordination was off and he had trouble bringing the glass to his lips. After the third try, the foxcoon intervened, setting one hand over the mouth of the glass and gently but firmly pressing the hand that held it back down to the table. "Hey, I think maybe you've had enough of that as it is." Fox protested and tried to wiggle his glass out of the other's grip, but the foxcoon's hold was surprisingly firm. "Besides, I think if the solution to your problems lay in a bottle, you would have found it already."

After a moment, Fox gave up on trying to free his glass and slumped back in his seat. The youth looked at him with concern evident on his face. "Sounds like you're having quite the run of bad luck," he commented. His expression brightened slightly as he got an idea. "I know; why don't I give you this?" He reached under the collar of his shirt and pulled out a small golden key that had been hanging around his neck by a fine silver chain. He lifted it over his head and threaded his hair out of the chain, and then handed it over to Fox.

"What's this?" Fox asked dubiously.

"It's been a good-luck charm for me," the foxcoon replied. "But it looks like you need it a lot more than I do, right now."

Fox looked the key over more closely. It looked like the sorts of keys that went to ancient mechanical locks, but was much more elaborately crafted and appeared to be made of pure gold that seemed to shine in the dim light. It was about as long as his index finger, and felt quite heavy for its size. He held it up to the light to examine it, but his vision was too blurry for him to get a clear image. More likely than not, this kid was just trying to foist some shiny bauble off on him, but on the other hand, there was something about the item that drew his interest. "How much do you want for this?" he asked.

"Huh?" The foxcoon looked a little befuddled by the question for a moment, but then realization dawned in his eyes. "I don't want money for this," he said. "It's a gift, in the hopes that it will bring you better luck in the future."

"I don' think I'll find any luck, even wi' this," Fox mumbled. "But … thanks for th' gesture, a' least." He left the balance of his tab on the table and stood up to leave.

He managed to stagger two steps before he nearly lost his balance, and the foxcoon put out an arm to catch him before he could fall over. "Whoa, sir, I don't think you're in any condition to be walking all the way home right now. Here, let me get a cab for you." Despite the fact that the other was supporting pretty much all of Fox's weight, he seemed steady as a rock and had little trouble keeping the morose vulpine upright and on his feet. He assisted Fox out the door and over to a taxi stop, where there was a bench he could sit down on and rest.

Outside it was already dark. They waited about half an hour until a hovertaxi drew near, and then the hybrid waved at the driver to stop for them. The cab pulled over to the side of the road, and the foxcoon helped Fox get into the vehicle. "Where to, sir?" the driver asked Fox.

"Corneria Military Hangar Complex," the hybrid answered for him. He passed over several credit coins to the driver, and said, "Keep the change." The driver, a somewhat scruffy-looking terrier, grinned at that last statement, since the coins he'd received were far more than enough to cover the cost of driving one passenger to the military's hangar complex. He tossed off a sloppy mock-salute and drove off, letting the acceleration of the vehicle slam the door shut. Fortunately, Fox's fingers and tail were already clear of the door when it closed.

Half-slouched in the back seat of the cab, he lifted the key up on its chain and examined it again in the glow of the street lights as the vehicle wove its way back to where he and the remaining members of Star Fox had their quarters. It seemed to hold his fascination as it caught the light that strobed through the windows and for a brief moment he wondered if there was any power to it, anything that could alter the downward course his life seemed to have taken recently. He doubted that it would, although he still hoped that something would happen to turn the course of his life around. Fox had almost given up hope on that ever happening, though; the only way he could see himself being content in life was if Krystal was there with him, and she had already made her choice clear to him. Fox sighed in weary resignation and slumped back in his seat, watching the streetlights pass overhead as the cab carried him back to what served as his home.

* * *

The foxcoon watched the cab speed away and disappear out of sight around a corner, and then he started walking slowly along the sidewalk in another direction. He ambled a couple of blocks before stopping in front of the mouth of a darkened alley. He looked around for a moment to make sure that no one was watching then ducked inside. He stopped at the back, where shadows obscured most of the ground, and asked, "Hey, sis, you there?"

"Yes, I'm here," said a soft, feminine voice. The speaker stood and stepped out from the shadows and into the dim lighting. She was a near-perfect duplicate of him, the only difference being the characteristics that distinguished male from female, her nearly waist-length hair, and eyes that were blue instead of gray. The two of them clasped hands in silent greeting, and then she asked him, "Did he take it?"

"Yeah, he took it," her brother answered. "I don't think he actually believes it'll do anything, though."

"That's all right," she reassured him. "Its effectiveness isn't contingent on his belief."

Her brother nodded in acknowledgment, and was silent in thought for a moment. After a little while, he asked, "Do we really have any right to interfere in others' lives like this? We're not gods, what business do we have in meddling with the choices people make?"

"All we've done is presented them with the opportunity," she answered. "What they do with that is up to them."

She took a step forward and then swayed precariously. Her brother reached out a hand and caught her as she stumbled. "Don't tell me you've been juicing all day, too?" he said with a teasing grin.

"Very funny," she mock-scowled in response. "Forging those artifacts takes a lot out of me." She held on to his arm a little longer until she regained her equilibrium, then looked up at him and asked, "Can you do me a favor?"

"You need only ask," he told her.

She nodded her head in the direction of the departed taxi and said, "Could you go with him?" by implication meaning Fox.

"Sure," he agreed. "Although, there is a good chance he'll recognize me. Even in his current state, he's bound to put two and two together eventually."

"I'm not asking you to lie, by any means," she told him. "Just don't tell him unless he asks, and in the meantime, he may need some extra help. Just be there, for advice and backup as needed."

"Sure thing," he agreed.

"Good luck, little brother. Stay alive." Once, a long time ago, the 'little brother' comment would have gotten an indignant reaction from him, but now he just smiled and pulled her into a farewell embrace before turning and disappearing into the night. She watched him go, and then started walking towards the downtown center, towards her own destination.

* * *

Fox McCloud was beginning to sober up a bit by the time the hovertaxi arrived at the hangar complex. Out on the largest landing pad available, he could see the hulking silhouette of the Great Fox 2, the Cornerian light carrier that had replaced the Dreadnought cruiser that had served as his team's home and base of operations for longer than he wanted to think about. While the new Great Fox had modern systems and equipment, and could carry nearly three times as many starfighters as the old one could, Fox still missed the old ship. On the original, he had known every weld and rivet, every patch and jerry-rigged system, every last crawlspace, nook and cranny, while on this ship he still found himself occasionally consulting a map of the layout when he needed to find his way to a section he didn't visit on a routine basis. It seemed representational of how his life had been in the past two and a half years, with all that was familiar and comfortable disappearing and being replaced by things new and uncertain.

Fox got out of the taxi and thanked the driver for his service. The terrier smiled in reply and drove off back towards the downtown area, leaving Fox standing on the sidewalk next to the hangar. The vulpine pilot turned and made his way back to where he and Falco Lombardi had set up their quarters. Slippy, along with his bride-to-be Amanda, had taken up residence in a low-rent apartment near the hangar. Fox's gait was still a little unsteady, but he didn't need to lean on another person to maintain his balance like he had when he first left the bar. As he walked, he pulled the key out from where he had placed it in his pocket, and examined it again. It belatedly occurred to him that he hadn't even learned the name of the person who had handed it to him, and he wondered if he'd see the foxcoon youth again sometime, to make up for that oversight.

There was one thing that he'd already learned, though, and that was that he wouldn't ever improve his lot in life by sitting in a bar feeling sorry for himself. As he climbed the stairs up to where his quarters were, he resolved to try and get his life back in order. What he would do after that, he wasn't sure, but at least it was a step in the right direction. He opened the door and saw Falco slouched on the couch, taloned feet up on the coffee table as he watched TV. At the sound of the door opening, the avian turned and smirked in Fox's direction. "Hey, McCloud, you're back early. Did you exceed your tab, or did the bar kick you out for being drunk and disorderly?"

"Very funny, Falco," Fox growled in reply. "You know, someone with your track record should be more careful about pointing that particular finger at others." Fox put his fingers up to his temples to massage away the beginning of a migraine. "Listen I'm going to get a shower, and then I'll turn in for the night. Try to keep the ruckus down, if you can."

"Aye, aye, cap'n," Falco replied, throwing a sloppy mock-salute. Then his demeanor became a bit more serious, and he sat up and added, "And may I add, it's good to see the Fox I used to know coming back." Fox waved in acknowledgment of the comment and went into his room. He stripped off his clothes, which smelled like cheap alcohol and old sweat, and stepped into the shower to wash the same smells out of his fur.

Fifteen minutes later he finished, much cleaner and feeling much better, he decided to turn in. It was odd, but after a day of doing not much more than drink and sit, he felt bone-weary… or maybe it was his depressed state that made him feel so tired. Whatever the reason, he hoped it would clear up by the next morning. He pulled on a clean set of boxers and lay down on his bed, staring up at the dull ceiling lost in thought. He absently picked up the key again and ran his thumb over the design, noting the intricate patterns that ran over the body. For some reason, they tugged at his memory, tantalizing him with a meaning that was just barely beyond his comprehension. He tried to puzzle out why they seemed so familiar for a few minutes, but eventually gave up and laid his head back on his pillow. As tired as he felt, he was asleep within moments, with the key's chain still looped around his hand. His last thought, before unconsciousness claimed him was a fervent wish for one last chance to try to make things right between him and Krystal, somehow.

If Fox had happened to stay awake, he would have noticed an unusual sight. The key seemed to shimmer in the darkness, waves of power radiating out from it as it began to perform the task for which it had been created. As the glow emanating from it increased, the images of the objects in Fox's room began to warp and blur, their edges becoming indistinct as though in a poorly focused hologram. Oblivious to the changes in his environment, Fox slept on as the fabric of time and space around him warped and twisted and folded in on itself, rearranging itself into a scene he would have instantly recognized… a scene that was literally, out of his past.

* * *

_Author's notes: This is a story that has been kicking around in my head for a long time now, and I finally decided to sit down and start it. I had the thought of making the Key of Destiny, from the game, play an actual role in the story, and decided that it would be an artifact that allowed the bearer to travel back to a designated point in time to try and alter the past. The story path will probably contain some scenes familiar to those who have played SF Command, but there will also be quite a few new scenes as well, and perhaps a few characters that weren't in the game. _

_I'd recommend the song "Just Another Day" by Rubicon 7 as a good background piece for this chapter. The music and words seem to capture Fox's feelings perfectly. _


End file.
